


Take Me Down

by Lucifer_Milton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Archangels, Biting, Bondage, Bottom Michael, Bruises, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Lucifer, Pretty sure Lucifer is a bit screwed in the head, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sassy Lucifer, Scratching, Top Lucifer, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_Milton/pseuds/Lucifer_Milton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Notice: Currently going through a clean up process. Most things will be re-written, cleaned up, and restructured. </p><p>For all that they had claimed that he, Lucifer, was the most beautiful among the angels, Lucifer had always secretly disagreed. If any of them had ever asked he would have said that Michael was the one who was the most stunning to behold; the most brilliant angel out of all of them. None of the others could compare. Not even him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> A Oneshot Michifer fic (Un-Beta'd)

Deep in the heart of the forest a lone building stands, paint peeling from the sides, window panes busted out leaving jagged glass. Desolate and silent, left to rot amongst the thick spread of trees that surrounded it. The chill left frost upon the grass, the frozen blades glistening in the moonlight from overhead. There was no source of life for miles around; which is, without a doubt, the reason why the other had chosen such a place. 

The sound of the icy grass crunching under his boots sliced through the thick silence that lay over the glade. The chill on the air deepening as Lucifer himself stepped into the clearing, taking in the sight of the shack with disinterest. A cool gust of wind whispered past, dancing along his newly acquired skin. At his waist the dull grey shirt Nick had been wearing lifted and fluttered for a moment before going still as the wind died down, leaving nothing but silence left in its wake; a void where there should’ve been the sounds of nature.

This sanctuary had gone silent in deference to the incomprehensible celestials that now stood within its grasp.

Lucifer turned from his study of the surroundings and focused on the ramshackled cabin.

Michael had summoned him a mere hour ago, shortly after he’d acquired Nick, and if there was one thing he could not do, it was to deny his brother anything. So when Michael had demanded to meet him, Lucifer had agreed to it. On one condition: They both would come alone. He knew that his older brother would not stoop so low as to ambush him in an underhanded manner. No, Michael was too straightforward to do so. Too intent on playing by the rules.

From the shack, clear to the borderline of trees where he stood, Lucifer could feel the heat of his brothers unfathomable grace spilling out from the building; The warmth of it sliding along his skin, making goosebumps rise along his arms and a strong shiver to snap down his spine as it wrapped around him with an old familiarity. Something he had not felt since--since….

_Somewhere deep inside a wailing rose, an old locked up part of him crying out for the being the grace poured from. For the comfort of those flames and the sense of home they instilled. Begged for his brother, his most treasured and loved. His Michael. It sobbed and tore at the wall that it was locked behind until it left itself bloody, the wall unmarred, unbroken._

Lucifer willfully ignored the feeble little thing as he slowly began to step towards the building, shuddering as the heat grew more intense the closer he neared. Past the broken window he could see the faintest of glows; A light further in, perhaps, but not nearly strong enough to dash away the shadows that danced in the corners. The closer he stepped, the more came into view: A single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and under it a figure stood; a figure with black hair, chiseled features and gorgeous black wings that rose in an elegant arch from his back. Each edge of a dark feather highlighted within the glow of the bulb.

Pale blue eyes took in the expanse of them, the way they filled the room with their presence, taking in every detail as he let his eyes roam slowly along the length of their dark beauty. His gaze lingering upon the scar at the top, a wound from ages ago that he had helped tend to with gentle touches. With a slow lift of his hand Lucifer reached out and rested his fingertips against the cracked and rotting wood of the windowsill, as if some part of him was reaching out unknowingly.

It had been so long since he had seen them, had seen _him_. Part of him wondered if it were yet another torturous hallucination. The cage turning all his deepest and most treasured memories against him again. Ones he had locked away but that the cage had ripped out in the open, knowing precisely what to use against him; what would hurt him the most. But no, this was real. He had been released and this was real; _Michael_ was real.

When his gaze tore from the wings back to Michael, the other archangel had turned to look over his shoulder, his stare cold and indifferent, having known the very moment Lucifer had arrived. It did not surprise the lightbringer in the least as he stepped past the window, fingertips trailing along the side of the shack. Old paint cracked, chipped and fell where his fingers dragged until he rounded the corner and stepped through the open doorway.

All around them the air thickened with tension at his entrance, Lucifer standing just inside the doorway with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of the jeans he wore. His entire posture relaxed and casual in comparison to the way Michael stood straight backed and stiff.

_‘Always the good little soldier.’_

Lucifer breathed in through his nose and exhaled sharply. “So.” he shrugged and smiled, eyes darting around the interior of the shack. “Here we are, in this quaint little place.” he strode over to one wall and lifted a hand to scratch at the decaying wood with a fingernail. “I mean, it’s not bad, but--” he considered the old paint embedded under his nail with mock interest before turning his shallow smile back to his brother. “It could definitely use a new coat of paint, don’t you think?” 

“I did not summon you here to talk about paint, Lucifer.”

The lightbringer’s smile faded, all emotion seeping out of the lines of his face as he rubbed his fingers together, ridding them of the grit of old paint. “Ah, of course.” Flicking away the last of the dust he shoved his hand back into his pocket and strode closer, keeping himself angled away from Michael. “Why exactly _did_ you demand a meeting?”

Michael followed his pacing with a heavy stare, never once taking his gaze off of the other. “We need to discuss this.”

Lucifer came to a stop and stared, a pinched look of confusion settling in the lines of his face, bordering on disbelief. “Discuss what?” his hand lifted again and motioned between them. “Your holy crusade to kill me?” A scoff fell from his lips as he shook his head. “We needn’t discuss that, Michael. I’m more than aware of Dad’s little game plan.”

“Precisely why we need to talk of it.” Michael bit out. “Father dictated we would battle in our true vessels and _nothing but_ our true vessels.”

“...And?” Lucifer peered at Michael for a long moment, waiting for an elaboration. When none came he sucked in a breath and turned his gaze elsewhere, pretending to think. “So let me get this straight. What you’re trying to say is that you don’t want us to fight until we’re safely ensconced in our pre-destined prom suits.” Lucifer pressed his lips together and hummed. “Right, of course.” Crossing his arms he bent his elbow and brought a finger to his lips, pressing the pad of his index finger against them. With a tilt of his head he turned his gaze back to Michael, speaking around his finger. “And what if I decide I don’t want to wait?”

“You wouldn’t last a second in the vessel you’re wearing.”

Lucifer considered his brother, finger curling away from his lips to scrape lightly at the stubble on his chin. Michael was right of course, he wouldn't. Not in this Plan B vessel. But who’s to say he didn’t prepare ahead of time? A sudden smug grin twitched at the corner of his lips as he gazed at his brother through hooded eyes. “Really?” he breathed, eyes flicking downward. With a twist of his fingers, a simple idle gesture that brushed against his jaw, a sudden soft breeze blew through the shack, pushing aside the old straw and debris littering the floor. 

Under their feet were sigils, elaborate and scrawling to every corner of the shack. A web of them interlaced with Michael’s very own mark, ones for binding, ones for grounding him, and others for sapping his power. When he had stored them away in his crypt all those years ago he had known they would one day come in handy. It had only taken a couple days to figure out how to make it specifically tailored to an individual, but it wasn’t perfect. Archangels were too strong for it to ever be permanent; it would wear off by morning and Lucifer did not want to be around when they did.

It took only a moment for Michael to understand what they were, his expression twisting into a quiet sort of anger. As the eldest began to stride towards him, Lucifer threw out a hand and activated the sigils, each line glowing a faint blue with the hum of his own grace. In seconds Michael gasped out and fell to his knees. There was pure rage in Michael’s eyes as he turned from the splay of sigils underneath him back to Lucifer. “ _I will kill you._ ”

“Oh, I'm sure you will. Someday.” Lucifer smiled and raised a finger for a second. “But not today.” He stepped closer, a breath of laughter spilling from his lips. “Don’t worry, Michael. You won’t die today either.” He mockingly cooed.

With a gasped sound of rage Michael lunged and swung at him, aiming to grab but was suddenly thrown aside, his body collapsing like a rag doll against the wall behind his brother.

“The thing is, you can’t do anything right now.” The lightbringer turned and followed his brother's path. “No Heavenly powers to help you, no way to summon your blade and you can’t call for help. You’re off the grid, Mikie.” Lucifer stopped, looming above his brothers weakened form with a smile spread across lips.

Michael glared back, his expression like stone as he tried to sit up. “I should’ve known you would do this, that you would betray me _again_.”

“Mm, perhaps.” Lucifer shrugged as he wrapped a hand around Michael’s throat and hauled him up, his voice softening. “Fool you once, shame on me; fool you twice, shame on you.” Michael’s fingers dug into his wrist, trying to dislodge him, but it was fruitless. Having been reduced to the level of a human, Lucifer outranked him in power and strength. 

Lucifer tsked quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, all those years I spent in that miserable cage of mine, there was only one thing I missed with an ache so intense that it drove me _mad_.” Lucifer lifted his hand to wrap around Michael’s jaw, releasing his throat. “Would you care to guess what it was?” His free hand gathered his brothers wrists to pin them above his head. 

When Michael refused to entertain his question Lucifer chuckled, leaning closer, forcing Michael’s chin up to better meet his gaze. “It wasn’t Earth, it wasn’t Heaven. It wasn’t Gabe, the flowers I used to tend to or the rivers I used to wade in.” There was but a hairsbreadth between them now, Lucifer's’ chilled breath ghosting across Michael’s lips with each uttered word. “It was you. You in all your _stunning_ glory.” A brush of his lips against his brother's made him sigh with a whisper. “Ironic that you’re the one I missed, when it was you who ripped me apart.”

“You disobeyed; you had to be _punished_.

A sharp hum vibrated in Lucifer’s chest, “I know.” 

Pressing closer and with a touch of lips, Lucifer found himself lost in the sensation. Michael’s lips were just as soft and pliable as he remembered them being. The touch sent a thrill through him, the edges of it tinged with a shiver.

He had thought about that kiss frequently in the cage, the way it had made his head pound with foreign desire. The way Michael’s cheekbones had felt under his thumbs, the touch of coarse stubble at his darkened jaw. Lucifer’s mind had fixated on it, relished in it and expanded on it in his head. It had been one of the few things that had brought him relief from the cage’s ceaseless torture.

Memories couldn’t compare, not next to the real thing as his lower lip caught upon Michael’s, drawing the upper lip between his own.

Michael did not seem to be intent on reciprocating this time around. Instead Lucifer felt a sharp sting, teeth cutting into tender flesh. In seconds he could taste the bitter metal on his tongue, the heady scent of blood filling his senses.

Lucifer drew back, his tongue darting out to lick up the blood beading on his lip, only to press in again, this time harsher than before, the force nearly bruising. With each nip of his teeth, Lucifer was met with an equal bite, an equal press of lips and tongue. Rough and impersonal.

Lucifer’s hands fell away, lowering to grasp at the hem of Michael’s shirt. When he did he felt Michael’s arms circle around him, forcing their way under to the expanse of cool skin at his back. What he wasn’t prepared for was the sharp pain that lanced down his back, nails dragging down the furrow of his spine. 

There was a catch in his breath as he startled back. His wings, or what was left of them, shook; the mutilated appendages flexing against the mix of pain and pleasure. it had been too long since he had been touched there, the area was still sensitive to the touch. Almost _too_ sensitive. 

With a tug Lucifer had Michael's shirt stripped off of him and his wrists back in his hold, turning Michael until his chest was pressed against the wall. Above their heads he ground his brothers wrists into the decaying wood until the sudden cold touch of metal appeared, replacing that of warm skin. Slowly Lucifer's fingers drifted away, leaving behind thick metal bands encircling his brothers wrists, binding him in place for the time being.

It was rather pleasing to see his brother strung up as he was. Wrists twisting against the metal, his arms straining from the angle. Lucifer could feel the way the muscles were pulled taut under his fingertips as he traced down the length of Michael’s arms with a fascinated expression.

For all that they had claimed that he, Lucifer, was the most beautiful among the angels, Lucifer had always secretly disagreed. If any of them had ever asked he would have said that Michael was the one who was the most stunning to behold; the most brilliant angel out of all of them. None of the others could compare, not even him.

Michael, with his dark eyes and tan skin, his cheekbones and the cut of his jaw. Massive wings framing his impressive presence, black feathers shining with a freshly groomed sheen. The way he stood, tall and proud as Heaven’s strongest warrior; most loyal and faithful among them. 

No, Lucifer had definitely not been the most beautiful.

Pale eyes studied the tiny patches of dark freckles along Michael’s shoulders, head tilting curiously as he drew his fingers from one to the other, tracing the patterns. Beneath his touch Michael shifted, breathing steadily under his hands until Lucifer trailed further down along the joints of where wings met flesh, lips pressing to his brothers warm skin. The way Michael tensed and shuddered slightly made Lucifer wonder if anyone had touched his wings since his fall.

Back then Lucifer had been selfish about his brothers wings, a tainted desire to be the only one who could touch them, groom them and press into their darkened folds; a multitude of black feathers encircling his shoulders. They had been his sanctuary, his treasure, and most importantly no one else's but _his_.

Lucifer sighed, his own breath cool against the heat of Michael’s flesh as he finally slid his touch to his brothers wings, fingers lighting upon the soft edges of ebony feathers, watching as they separated only to fall back together as his fingers passed. They were just as silken as he remembered them being, the heat spilling from their confines hinting at his brother's fiery nature. He ached to feel it, to feel his brothers grace through the thin barrier he now resided in. Ached in such a way he felt breathless as he pressed his lips back to Michael’s shoulder, drawing close so he could wrap his free arm around his brother's torso, pulling him back against his chest.

“ _Lucifer._ ” Came the rough call of his name, laced in it a mixture of emotions, but Lucifer knew it was more of a warning than anything. A warning he wasn’t going to heed. His hand traveled down the length of feathers before reaching the ends, following their silken edges to the front where the spaces in between them was slightly bigger, easier for him to slip his fingers up, pushing aside so he could reach the sensitive heat beneath. When his chilled fingers finally reached it he gasped quietly at the shock that traveled through his hand, shooting through his entire body when he stroked along the grace hidden beneath. 

In his grasp, Michael had tensed, his forehead pressed against his forearms. Face nearly hidden save the tense edge of his jaw, the dip of his chin and the slight tremble of his lower lip.

It had to be overwhelming, and yet Michael did not make a sound. The stubbornness caused Lucifer to smile.

“How long has it been, Michael?” Lucifer hummed, eyes roaming over what he could see of Michael’s face. “Has anyone touched you since the last time I did?” Finally, Michael seemed to pull back, twisting his face away from his arm so he could stare at him. 

The harsh glare the lightbringer received did not surprise him. Even now, at his lowest, Michael was still strong in ways that went beyond the physical. Lucifer considered him for a moment, holding his gaze. “You know, if I find out someone did, I’ll kill them.” he finally murmured, a smile twisting viciously on his lips. “I’ll kill them and then rip off your wings so no one else can have them.” Lucifer slid his hand away from the ebony wing and placed both of his hands flat against Michael’s chest. “Just like you did mine.” he whispered close to his ear. “Because I know you Michael. I know you better than you know yourself.” Nails bit into the tanned flesh, dragging slowly, harshly down the planes of his torso. Pale eyes peered down over a freckled shoulder, watching as his own hands wrapped around the waistband of his brothers pants. “You’re just as selfish as I am; just as stubborn and prideful.” 

Lucifer sucked on his own bottom lip, biting down on it in anticipation as he easily popped the button and guided the tab down with soft ‘clicks’ until the material parted. It left enough room for the lightbringer to slide his hands inwards to hook his thumbs over the edge of the black briefs. As he pulled them down around his brother he smiled, smug at the obvious effects he was having judging by the way Michael’s length curved upwards, flushed pink; a spot of precum ebbing from the tip. “You’re a monster, just like me.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against his brother's cheek. 

When he wrapped his fingers around his brother and stroked, Michael tensed, face disappearing back into the folds of his arms. Which was fine by Lucifer, but he was more than certain Michael would break his silence before the end. In fact, Lucifer would make sure of it. Meanwhile, he’d enjoy his play as he turned his attention back to the length of heat encased in his hand. Gently he drew his fingers down and rubbed the pad of his thumb over his slit, smearing the dab of precum along the flushed head until it was slick, leaving behind a subtle sheen to the deep pink flesh. 

A soft clank of metal made him glance upwards. Michael’s wrists were pulled tight against his bindings and his hands were clenched, knuckles bleeding white. Lucifer smirked as he lifted his hand away and raised it to his mouth, licking the residual fluid from his thumb. It was nearly tasteless, save the slight tang of bitterness. 

“There’s no need to be so quiet, Michael. It’s only you and I here.” Reaching back down he wrapped his hand around him again. This time Michael broke his composure, but just barely, as he jerked at the sudden sensation of a slicked palm pulling at him. It was enough for the smirk to bloom into a full on grin as Lucifer stroked him slowly, twisting his wrist each time his thumb and forefinger slid over the crown of the flushed head. Pale eyes turned up again, peering at the straining and clenched fists bound by iron. “How badly do you want to tear me apart right now?” His other arm wound around Michael’s chest, keeping him steady as his own hips pressed against his brother. “If I let you down and destroyed the sigils, would you rip me into shreds until there was nothing left of me? End me, here and now, despite Father’s plan?” 

A soft angry sound came from the confine of Michael’s arms. 

Lucifer would take that as a yes then. 

Suddenly shuffling back the lightbringer used his free hand to pull at Michael’s hips, shoving his pants further down until they were bunched around his knees. At this angle Michael was stretched out further, his arms shaking with the painful tension pulling at his muscles. Had he been at full power it would not have mattered, but he was at the mercy of human limitations. Even Michael, with his stubborn will power, could not fight back the urges and the reactions of his human vessel.

With a push at Michael's upper back he was bent over slightly, enough for Lucifer to be able to press two slick fingers into him, sliding into the second knuckle against the tightness that clenched down around them. Perhaps he would’ve been a little kinder in another time and place, but he only had so long to get what he wanted before sunrise. Still, he paused there, allowing for Michael’s body to relax somewhat before he pressed further in, drawing slowly back out and setting a steady rhythm in time with his languid strokes. It was when he pushed deeper, and at a slight angle against something inside him, that he finally got Michael to finally break his silence; a choked breath in reaction to the flash of pleasure that spread up his brothers spine like lightning. Within seconds Michael seemed to realize his sudden mistake, his jaw tensing again. Whatever he’d done, Lucifer knew he would likely not get another sound out of him again. 

_‘We’ll see about that though.’_

Lucifer trailed down Michael’s spine with nips of his teeth, brushing his lips over the marks left behind. With a final twist of his fingers he drew away, only to grab Michael’s hips with a hand as he pressed into his brother. It was still rather tight as Lucifer guided himself in, inhaling sharply as his eyes fluttering closed. The way the heat surrounded him nearly tore him apart, overwhelming his senses as the pleasure vibrated through him.

With a gentle push of his own grace he managed to get Michael to relax enough that he slid in with less resistance. Still, Lucifer could barely control the way his breath shuddered on every exhale as his fingers dug into the sharp bend of Michael’s hips, buried to the hilt, leaving bruises that would last until morning. 

Underneath his hands Michael shifted, hips tilting back and making Lucifer choke on a breath with the sudden change in angle. Lucifer could almost hear his pulse beating in his ears as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Michael’s shoulder. With a sigh he pulled out and thrust back in, hips snapping against Michael with a slowly gaining rhythm.

Michael's shoulder rose and fell heavily under his temple, the movement somehow calming Lucifer, letting him catch his breath enough to pry one hand from his brothers hip to bury in Michael’s dark hair. With a sharp tug he pulled his head back until he could see his brothers face clearly. Michael’s dark eyes were hooded and glazed over, finally succumbing to the building tide of need. If he had still retained his grace, Lucifer had no doubt that his brother would’ve blocked all of it out and remained the usual stone faced angel of old. But without that crutch, Michael was forced to have to endure and block it all through his own sheer will. 

Apparently even Michael couldn’t remain resolute when his already shortened limits were tested.

At each snap of Lucifer’s hips, a short muted gasp fell from his brothers lips. Pace quickening as Lucifer sped up, reaching to wrap his hand around Michael and stroke him in time with his thrusts. The strangled sound that sprang from Michael at the added touch had Lucifer shuddering, a piercing wave of pleasure clouding his mind. The heat was building faster and faster as his breath shattered against Michael’s skin until he wasn’t sure where his brother ended and he began. Just like it used to be. 

And all Lucifer could see was Michael, _Michael, **Michael**_ , as the searing fire between their skins built to an unbearable pressure, sitting at the precipice of total oblivion. Lucifer pressed closer, raised his hand and dug into Michael’s wing, fingers tearing through feathers until he could get to the blazing grace underneath, locked away deep inside by the runes. Nails scratched along the over-sensitive flesh in a blinding meeting of fire against ice that had him crying out. Their combined graces clashed, the air growing tense with the buzz of it as Michael clenched around him, nearly shaking apart as a broken sound fell from his lips. Lucifer gasped out a sound of his own before burying his teeth into the meat of Michael’s shoulder as everything went blank.

Blissfully silent and blank. All thoughts disappeared, the world around them fell away; duties forgotten and old hatred went quiet for a moment in the midst of their own created heaven.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into what seemed like hours before Lucifer opened his eyes, peeling himself away from his brothers back. As he slipped out of him he left behind a trickle of milky fluid on Michael’s inner thigh. 

Michael himself seemed to collapse, his full weight being held up by his still bound wrists, each of them rubbed raw against the harsh metal.

Lucifer took in the sight of his debauched brother and savored the moment before he cleaned himself off and zipped up his pants, bending down to pick his brother up. “Michael.” There wasn’t a response, just a steady breathing and closed eyes. 

Had he passed out? Had he really drained that much of him through the spell? Lucifer studied him for a moment before deciding that Michael was not pretending and reached above to break the metal bindings, catching his brother's body when it collapsed.

It took only a few minutes to clean Michael up and redress him. Just in time too, because as he finished the last button up on Michael’s shirt, his dark eyes flickered open, blinking with the fog of confusion before landing on him and clearing up instantly.

Lucifer glanced at him, a small smile appearing and then disappearing just as quickly. Done with his shirt he patted his brother's chest and grabbed onto his arm. “Sit up.” The fact Michael did so, willingly and without fuss, actually surprised him. Even more so that he had allowed Lucifer to help.

Michael stared at the glowing lines surrounding them on the floor, rubbing at his wrists with a dark contemplative look.

The lightbringers gaze switched to his brothers wrists, watching his fingers rub at the wounds. The top layer had been completely rubbed off, leaving nothing but angry red patches encircling each wrist. With a light touch of his own fingers he grasped one of them and drew it into his lap, Michael’s dark gaze turning to him, narrowing into a glare. 

Lucifer simply quirked an eyebrow in response, brushing the coolness of his grace over the raw wound, the skin healing nearly instantaneous. His touch was gentle as he moved to the other and healed it too.

For a moment Michael studied his wrists, his expression vacant before he lowered them. “I still hate you.”

Lucifer laughed lightly, shrugging with mock amusement. “And I still love you. Funny how that works.” It was true too. The love he held for his brother was still there, deep deep down where he refused to let it sway his mind. But it was still there nevertheless. Even the hatred and betrayal he still harbored could not hold a candle to the massive scope of his affection for Michael. “I’ll take your hate. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Bending his legs Lucifer rested his arms on top of his knees, growing quiet as they waited. An hour into watching the stars move across the sky through a gap in the ceiling, Lucifer couldn’t stop thinking, wondering why Michael hadn’t done the obvious. “The sigils. Why haven’t you broken them yet.”

Michael was quiet for a long moment, deathly still, his gaze locked upon the shacks one lone broken window. “I can’t break them.”

Really? The sigils were there, all it would take was to scratch a line through one of them and it would all crumble to dust. There were plenty of options lying around their seated forms, debris perfectly capable of scoring a line through the wood underneath them. “Yes, you can. So why haven’t you.”

Lucifer waited for an answer, but one never came. So, he could, he just didn’t want to. Part of him wondered why, but a deeper part of him knew. A smile pulled at his lips, twisted with an old sadness as he felt the thread of power linking the runes to his grace start to dim. Behind his back and through the window the sky was suddenly split at the horizon by steadily growing light, painting the skyline in shades of orange, yellow and blue. The dark silhouettes of the trees jutting like spikes into the mix of color.

Turning away from the window Lucifer took in Michael’s sitting form one last time, the detachment and the stiff way in which he held himself. He reached forward and cupped his brother's cheek, thumb tracing the cut of his cheekbone before leaning in and brushing his lips against the edge of his brothers jaw, leaving a parting kiss. 

If he had looked he would’ve seen Michael close his eyes for a second at the touch. But as it was, by the time he pulled back Michael was as still as a statue once more.

The lightbringer stood up, dusting himself off idly as the runes dimmed considerably around them. Already he could feel the charge in the air, the build up of particles. The very air was buzzing, waiting to burst into flames. It was best he leave now, while he still could. To be caught in the oncoming blast would spell the end of him. As he turned to leave though, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder one last time. When Michael’s attention snapped to him he nodded, both of them understanding that Lucifer was agreeing to his terms. That he would play by Michael’s rules and wait for their true vessels.

Outside the air was growing warmer with the rising sun, the frost underfoot melting to leave the grass wet. The soil was beginning to soften as his boots sank slightly into it. Halfway through the thick, pine filled forest, he felt the connection with the spell sever with a _snap_. Lucifer stopped to glance back in the pregnant silence that followed. The calm did not last long before a sudden piercing wail seemed to rise out of nowhere, growing in pitch until the very ground shook with it and his ears rang. Michael’s true voice, a scream of anger. A sudden explosion of fire blasted into the sky, a towering inferno spreading out and consuming the ruined shack and a few miles of trees in every direction, the scorching heat of his brothers grace spilling out over the forest like a smothering blanket.

The implosion of grace left the surrounding area in ruin, smoldering and charred. Purified by the holy flames of the archangel Michael, leaving no evidence behind of what had transpired there.

It was better that way. For the both of them.

\--


End file.
